


It's alright (it's just the end of the world)

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AOS 5x18 coda, Angst, But Mostly Angst ngl, Elena-centric, F/M, spoilers for 5x18, with a little bit of hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: 'Cause all has been lost and all has been wonAnd there's nothing left for us to saveBut now I know that I don't want to be alone today-Elena reflects on her decision in 5x18 and what it means for herself, her loved ones and the future of the world. Elena-centric, MackElena/YoyoMack, Angst.





	It's alright (it's just the end of the world)

**Author's Note:**

> Title and quote from ["Preaching the End of the World"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVYVLEnv_kM) by Chris Cornell.

Elena watched the tiny crucifix dangling from her mechanical fingers. It glinted like a tiny golden star in the dim light, but still she felt lost in a fog, unable to read its guiding signs. It felt wrong, holding it like this: without its shape against her skin, without the cool metal, warming at her touch. 

Truth be told, though, there was not much else that Elena missed about her arms – her new ones could do most of what they had been able to, and they were stronger, faster. They made her better. Even though they still didn’t quite feel part of her yet, she’d found them easier to accept, knowing she still had the parts that mattered. What was the body, after all, if not a tool for the soul and the heart and the mind to work their purpose? Now, though, she no longer knew if she had even that. 

It was not so much that she hated killing. She did, of course, but sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes, in this violent world, it could even be for the best. She had thought that was going to be the story of today, but the long – and tense – flight back to base had given her a little too much time to think over it. 

She’d killed a scared young woman today. Not a little girl, not quite, but still that’s what it felt like as her memory played it back over and over. _She’s a kid._ Ruby had been crying out for her mother, begging for help. That was not the way of a ruthless murderer and, whether she had saved the world or not, what she’d done – that split-second decision – was only growing harder and harder to face. Harder still as, from the way Daisy had been climbing the walls of the Zephyr, and from the hushed conversations between her and May, Elena had gathered that Ruby’s story hit a little closer to home than usual. It had started Elena thinking: what if she’d just stopped another Daisy from growing up? What if she’d killed a scared young woman for no reason? Or worse – what if this was all mapped out already, every action and reaction, and Ruby’s violent death and the blood on her own hands had been set in stone long ago? 

It was Fitz who’d blurted out on the way here – somehow in Daisy’s defense, though they were in the middle of a fight themselves as well – that Elena hadn’t saved the world. That she couldn’t have. That Ruby hadn’t been the Destroyer of Worlds, Daisy had. That time was an illusion, and our choices all pre-made. He’d gotten very quiet after that, and so had Daisy. So had everybody on the plane. The air had grown thick and heavy and dark with the terrible thought. Was it better to believe you’d chosen, of your own free will, to torture and traumatize a dear friend for the sake of strangers? Or was it, somehow, better to believe you’d been destined to do it, from before you’d even met? 

Elena did not envy Fitz his dilemma – nor Daisy, who was in the somehow even more unfortunate position of experiencing it from the other side – and yet she found herself staring down the barrel of the very same gun. Saving the world was a messy affair, this she had always known, but now more than ever Elena found herself wishing that she could do more than just pray that’s what they were doing. Especially since she knew - she more than anyone else – that there’d be more lives on the line before the end. 

She clutched the crucifix to her heart, and that helped. The feeling of her own metal fingers against her skin was new and strange but when she closed her eyes, she could seek out that old, familiar shape. This was not the original, of course – that was drifting around in space somewhere, with the body of another brave man lost to the world too soon. But Mack had gone out of his way to find one just like it, and to always make sure it came back to her, and through the love imbued in his efforts, and her own, the most important memories remained. She could recall her mother giving it to her for her quinceañera; the warm embrace of her family; the familiar feeling of her old church and the quiet welcome of a new one in the States. She could recall, though it felt something of a distant memory now, the comfort of knowing that God was watching over her, giving her the gifts to do good in the world, and the passion and the intuition to know what that was. She longed for that same passion, that intuition again… and if she could not have that, then at least the comfort, or something, to soothe this lonely, grieving ache that was, in a truer sense than most living humans had ever experienced, the weight of the world. 

“Please,” she whispered, into the heavy air, squeezing the crucifix as tightly as she dared without crumpling it like al-foil. “Tell me, am I doing the right thing?”

As if in answer, there was a soft _click_ as the door pushed open. Mack hesitated in the doorway, but stepped in and closed the door behind him. 

“Sorry,” he said, his voice soft and low as if trying even now not to interrupt. “The others told me what happened. Are you okay?” 

Maybe it was the question that did it, maybe something about the tone of his voice, but all of a sudden Elena felt the tears come at her in a rush. They were bitter tears – anger at not being able to defend herself against Daisy’s accusations; fear that she might after all be right; grief for the soul that was lost today. The soul she took. They were tears of frustration, of loss, and she held them back as best she could, feeling a little breathless with the effort. 

“Do you think I did the right thing?” she asked. 

“I don’t know if I can answer that,” Mack replied – reluctant, sympathetic. “I wasn’t there.” 

There was no scolding to his voice, although there could have been. Perhaps there should have been. But it was not needed; Elena felt appropriately scolded nonetheless. She hung her head – and, seeing how lost she was, Mack offered;

“As long as you didn’t do it out of anger, or vengeance..?” 

_That’s the girl who took my arms._

Elena’s eyes snapped up to his face. Had they told him that part? Did it matter? That’s not why she did it, the timing was wrong, the feelings – all the feelings – She stood up from the bed, begging him to see.

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head, as much to keep that little worm of doubt from her own mind as from his. “No, I didn’t, I swear. I-”

“I believe you,” he promised her steadily, a little taken aback by the force of her desperation. He opened his arms, gentle and accepting, and Elena felt a little of that panic drain away. She pressed herself gratefully against his chest and he closed his arms, enveloping her and humming, a soothing and tuneless sound. 

“ _Mi amor,”_ he murmured. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you right now, but… for what it’s worth, I don’t think we can ever truly know if we’re doing the right thing. We don’t know the consequences of our actions, or the consequences of those, or the consequences of those… We were never meant to know. You acted on what you thought was right in the moment. That’s all anyone could have done.”

Elena shook her head. “But- it didn’t achieve anything. Daisy’s the Destroyer, not Ruby. If I’d known that…” 

“You would have what? Killed Daisy?” Mack pulled back from her a little, to look her in the eyes. “Elena. There are hundreds of thousands of choices between now and tomorrow, let alone now and fifty years’ time. Some of those are going to be hard. Some of them are probably going to be wrong. But who’s to say which? I know I can’t. Daisy can’t. Fitz can’t. Who’s to say that Ruby wouldn’t have been the Destroyer if you hadn’t done what you did? Changing the future and saving the world might not be mutually exclusive, you know.” 

“I know.” Elena sighed, an unsatisfied sigh, and Mack pulled her back into his embrace.

“I know,” he repeated, in as much of a reassuring tone as he could. For all that he wished otherwise, Mack knew there was no truly comforting way to have this conversation, because for every reason such a thing might have been the right thing to do, there was a reason for it to be wrong. He knew that Elena knew more than she was saying about the future, but if her own knowledge wasn’t helping her then sharing it probably wouldn’t either, so he didn’t ask. He had faith in Elena, even if he couldn’t explain it, and even if she couldn’t see it herself. She would soon, he was sure, and if he had to he’d just hold her until that moment. Already, she was breathing easier, and that went a long way to soothing his aching heart. 

Elena, meanwhile, laid her ear against Mack’s chest. She no longer felt as lost, or as guilt-ridden, as she had done while stranded alone with her thoughts, but there was still a nagging sensation of dread that would not leave. Knowing that Ruby’s death was not the end kept her on edge, and though she longed for nothing more in this moment than to lose herself in Mack’s embrace, she couldn’t help thinking about how every one of those strong and steady heartbeats, might still be bringing him closer and closer to his last.


End file.
